


Mind over Matter

by jstrattford



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstrattford/pseuds/jstrattford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's stupidly smitten with his guitar teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind over Matter

**Author's Note:**

> An old [drabble](http://arie-172.tumblr.com/post/99677819307/mind-over-matter) I posted a while ago on my tumblr.

Wednesday afternoons are always Harry’s favorite part of the week.

It’s precisely on this day that a certain sensation swells through his veins when he carefully holds onto the acoustic guitar, letting his fingers linger on the steel strings to produce the very soothing sound of The Smiths’ melody. But, this overwhelming sensation that knocks the breath out of Harry’s lungs and seeps into a small sigh has nothing to do with the action itself.

 _It certainly doesn’t_ , Harry maintains, letting out a very genuine smile that makes those small dimples mark his face to that certain someone who sits right across from Harry each lesson.

“Like this?” Harry asks smugly, even if he knows exactly what he’s doing, fingers loose around the neck of the guitar.

“Exactly like that, mate,” says Niall in a breathy tone, imprinted with a very deep, Irish accent that creates a pressure in between Harry’s chest, like always. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” questions Niall, pleased.

“Maybe just a little,” Harry replies with a glowing face, cheeks hurting because he’s smiling too widely.

“Good on you,” Niall grins, that smile that so uniquely belongs to him, sending Harry’s heart to hammer frantically against his chest. “Much improved since your first lesson all those week ago, remember?” questions Niall through a small chuckle, good-naturedly.

 _How can I ever forget?_  is what Harry wants to say, but because he’s afraid that Niall will shrug it off or take it as a joke, he doesn’t. This is Niall, after all. He finds the dumbest things funny (as Harry’s come to learn) - quickly licking his lips because they’re so dry, and he just can’t keep still when Niall’s eyes are on him so intently.

“Yeah,” Harry says lightly, adding, “I do,” in a softer voice that Niall still catches.

And judging from the way the smirk lies on Niall’s face, it seems to be the right response too.

“Well, it’s probably because you’ve got a hell of a guitar teacher,” Niall says in a joking manner but watches Harry with curious eyes as if asking,  _I’m not that horrible, right?_

“I don’t know about that,” Harry hums smugly because of the way Niall’s eyes widen a bit. It’s always such a rarity to see Niall caught off guard but when he is, Harry likes to relish in it, smiling shortly - his way of letting Niall know that he’s trying to wind him up again.

“Thanks, but I was actually being serious.” Niall says, doing a bad job of hiding the way his lips are twitching into a smile, attempting to furrow his brows to match his false disbelief at Harry’s choice of words. “I’m actually a catch,” Niall says, a slight grin spreading across his face, and that much Harry will agree with through a small smile. But because he knows Niall’s joking, he swallows away the words that are threatening to escape.

“And the student?” Harry asks, unable to push away the ridiculous pounding in his chest because he’s too captivated by the way Niall’s exuding so much joy with one simple facial gesture.

“The student’s not so bad either,” Niall winks at Harry, and no. This isn’t fucking fair, Harry thinks, keeping his green eyes on Niall’s bright face.

It’s just… why did he always have this effect on Harry? Why was it that after all this time, Harry still didn’t know how to keep his emotions in check when it came to Niall?

He supposes that an easy answer would be saying, “because his cheeks get terribly red whenever he holds in his laughter for too long, he’s a very laid back individual, and to top it all off, he’s fit” - but it’s just not that straightforward.

Somehow, it can’t be expressed by such simplistic terms, Harry knows - unable to control the rhythm of his beating heart each time Niall graces him with an endearing smile that seethes out of his lips. Or the way Harry’s stomach twists tightly because of how Niall cheerfully chuckles at one of his silly jokes that his other friends have rolled their eyes at a dozen of times - a lovely laugh that resonates in Harry’s ears throughout the rest of the day, dazed.

It’s just absurdly silly how something so unmistakably normal can make the constricting in Harry’s throat tighten with each gaze. Or make his lungs pull in for nonexistent air because Niall does a good job of evaporating it with the gentleness that shines in his eyes.

Harry swallows the small lump in his throat, watching the way Niall strums a couple of chords before glancing up to catch his eyes, face glowing with a kindness that’s just so him.

 _Why?_  Harry wants to shout but purses his lips instead, catching how the edge of Niall’s mouth is slowly curving up once again.

“Thanks,” is Harry’s only suitable response because he’s apparently lost the ability to formulate a coherent sentence - something that seems to happen so often when being near Niall.

Niall doesn’t notice, though, shaking his head with an amused expression cemented on his lovely face. But, Harry’s eyes are more focused on absorbing the way Niall’s cheeks are flaring up - trying to disguise it by quickly averting his gaze back down to his guitar.

“No problem,” says Niall, voice a bit more hoarse. “Like I said, you’ve done a good job practicing.” He tells him glancing tentatively at Harry with his red-stricken face that Harry’s been anxious to see since the lesson began, because he’s always wondered what it’d be like to stroke it and feel the warmth of the blood rushing through Niall’s cheeks underneath the pads of his own fingers - grazing each part gently. He’s just that desperate.

“You could tell?” Harry forces out, a little pained, knowing how pathetic he must sound.

“Course I could,” Niall grins happily, meeting Harry’s eyes with more confidence this time. “You were rubbish when you first came,” he laughs, taking off his snapback to twist his fingers into a couple of strands of his golden locks (a habit he has), as Harry forces keeping his eyes on Niall’s vibrant face that looks so undeniably beautiful.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Harry complains lightly, trying to hide the fact that his body’s struggling to stay put. “I knew some chords,” he attempts to say in a joking matter, but it comes out so soft, so incredibly fond, with the smile glued onto his face, trying to lean closer to Niall’s oblivious self.

“Well, yeah. But that still doesn’t make you any better,” Niall maintains with a grin. And for whichever reason, Harry likes hearing that sharpness in Niall’s tongue, completely taken by everything that he does.

How this infatuation began was quite unexpected. A coincidence, really. Harry was never supposed to take notice of Niall, but for some crazy chance, he did.

Actually, if he had to name one person responsible for his current dilemma it’d be Gemma. She was the one who introduced them, after all.

“He’s good?” Harry had asked through the phone, voice dubious because he and Gemma had very different definitions of what was good - noted by her horrid taste in music.

“One of the best I’ve seen,” Gemma insisted, muffled voices on the other end. “Trust me on this, you’ll be in good hands.”

“I don’t know, Gemma. Wouldn’t it be better to just keep looking?” Harry suggested in an amused voice, but something about his tone must’ve been off because he heard an irritated groan from the other end - the clearest sign that he was in for an earful.

“What?” Gemma’s voice was sharp, almost critical. “You don’t believe me?” she scoffed, voice mixed with disbelief and annoyance.

“It’s not that I don’t - you know that,” Harry awkwardly attempted to fix the messiness of his curls and pulled the phone closer to him. “I just want someone who knows what they’re doing.” He said back in a slightly less judgmental voice, only to hear Gemma groan loudly in response.

“So. Damn. Picky,” Gemma mumbled to herself. “And this is exactly why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“What?” Harry winced, offended. She didn’t need to go that far, he thought.

“Nothing,” Gemma breathed out, not hiding her tired tone. “So you don’t want me to tell him?”

“You can tell him - I don’t mind  _that_. Just as long as he’s somewhat decent,” Harry said, trying to backtrack a bit because it was the only way to get Gemma to quiet down.

“Compared to you, anyone is,” Gemma quipped, letting out a content huff.

“Ha ha,” Harry countered, rolling his eyes. “So when do I get to meet this fantastic guitar teacher?”

“Soon,” she said and wow. There was nothing more that Harry hated than hearing that, like she thought it was obvious when it clearly wasn’t.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, “but when is soon?” he questioned, irritation smeared in his voice. She was being extremely evasive that it was hard for him not to feel that slight agitation that was coursing through his body, only increasing when he heard what appeared to be music from Gemma’s end.

“I need to ask him first.” She shouted over the beat of the loud drums, distracted. “He’s always busy doing frat activities.”

“He’s in a frat?” Harry groaned, mood changing drastically. “Gemma - ”

“Listen, I’ll call you back,” she said, and before Harry could respond with his dry humor, the call was ended.

“But what if he’s an arrogant, frat-boy prick?” Harry sighed, but spent the rest of his day normally. He didn’t even bother worrying about getting another call from Gemma because it sounded like she was going to be very busy, to say the least. Knowing her she would even forget about it because it’s how she functions, Harry reasoned, doing the rest of his readings for his microeconomics class.

But unexpectedly, he did get that text. Only…it wasn’t from her, as Harry stared at his phone to see an unknown number message him.

_Hi :)_

Confused, Harry read the text over and over again. He didn’t really share his number with many people and this could very well be some crazed person, but….he had to admit…he was intrigued. This person couldn’t be a psychopath if they put a smiley face in their texts, could they?

So he answered back.

_Hello?_

Harry typed, wondering if perhaps he was being too casual about the situation, but it didn’t take more than 10 minutes before he got another text with two simple words.

_I’m Niall._

And it’s with those words that his dilemma began. He could feel it too - a bit silly because it was it was just a couple of words, but even then, he was charmed - ever more so when he met the elusive Niall in person, because this was not what he was expecting.

 _Niall_  was not what he was expecting.

Thin lips, a cute nose, blond hair that was covered by a white snapback, blue eyes that shinned brightly when they locked with Harry’s, and a smile that was so contagious that Harry found it irresistibly hard not to return - Harry was doomed from the start.

“I’m Niall,” said Niall, offering his hand for Harry to shake and that was it. The sting that went from Harry’s sweaty palms to his legs was a testimony to it. What it was, Harry didn’t know. One thing was clear, though. Whatever it was, he wanted to feel again.  _And again_.

“Stop daydreaming and pay attention,” Niall tells him, bringing Harry out of his dazed state and back to his crushing reality. Niall doesn’t look angry, though. Instead, he looks amused, smirk on his face a telltale sign that he’s intrigued in knowing whatever’s going on in Harry’s head.

“Sorry?” Harry clears his throat, looking at the creases near Niall’s eyes.

“You were daydreaming again,” Niall smugly replies, adding a dry chuckle that makes Harry’s heart leap. Calm the fuck down, he tells it, forcing a smile on his face.

“I wasn’t,” Harry swipes a curl out of his face, catching the way Niall’s eyes move slightly in that direction, but tilts his head to the side as if challenging him.

“You weren’t?” Niall asks, and there’s something in his voice that gives Harry the impression that he’s delighted, like there’s a secret that he’s just discovered. But…perhaps Harry’s just reading this wrong, right?

“No,” Harry says, throat so clogged that it sounds rough and tired, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Niall continues teasing him on the subject.

But Niall doesn’t, only shaking his head.

“Good,” he says shortly, returning the smile, but oh boy. He has no idea how far off that statement is, Harry thinks, letting the muscles on his face slacken as his face flushes into a marvelous red.

*

“How are your lessons going?” Gemma asks Harry later that week in one of her typical daily phone calls. “Learn anything?” she asks, as Harry exhales a small breath.

He supposes that her overbearing behavior comes from a good place because she’s his older sister and just wants to look out for him, but he doesn’t appreciate the regularity in which it happens - trying to remain calm by pressing his fingers in a small fist.

“A bit,” Harry finally manages to say, hoping that she takes the hint that he doesn’t want to talk anymore.

She doesn’t, of course.

“How’s Niall?” Gemma asks obliviously, catching Harry’s interest as he loosens the grip on his hands.

“He’s…”  _Fantastic_ , he thinks, but Gemma would only tease him about that. She’s always done that - going back to those confused days when he still thought he liked girls.

Harry lulls at the thought, wording his next sentence carefully.

“He’s not as bad as I thought he’d be,” he says, and that sounds about right to him. Niall certainly wasn’t bad.

“Yeah, I know,” Gemma answers in a cheerful voice. “He’s actually - ” Gemma stops speaking abruptly, like she’s caught on to what Harry’s said.

“Hello?” Harry asks, very confused, looking at his phone to see if it says call ended. It hasn’t, he notices, wincing at that. “Gemma?”

“I’m here,” she says, a bit less cheerful but sounding…intrigued? “I’m just…” Gemma pauses, inhaling a small breath. “A bit busy, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Harry tilts a brow. Why she would call him when she’s busy is beyond him, but she doesn’t even appear to be noticing Harry’s confusion because she’s started letting out inhumane noises.

“Umm, Gemma? Are you okay?” Harry listens to the mumbling on her line carefully. Perhaps she was with someone, he thinks, but it sounds like she’s talking aloud, almost like she’s forgotten she’s still on the line - typical Gemma behavior whenever she gets excited, which Harry can’t understand why.

“Yeah,” she manages to say amidst her glee. “I’ll just call you back,” she says, still sounding off, but Harry’s not going to fight her on it.

“Okay,” Harry says, ending the call before she can have the opportunity to change her mind.

He has a weird sister, he reasons, but doesn’t think about it too much. And, neither does Gemma it appears, because she doesn’t call.

*

Since his last conversation with Gemma, Harry’s surprised to see her break her routine of calling him everyday.

It’s strange, weird, and leaves him flabbergasted, but he supposes that it’s also nice. It’s a change from all the snide remarks she makes because she feels that as an older sister -  _I’m entitled to -_ and Harry would feel compelled to say he doesn’t miss it if he really did, baffling him in the process.

 _Where was she?_  Harry thinks, walking to the convenient store. He needed someone to talk about his _not-crush_  on Niall because he’s already bored his roommate, Liam, on the subject, telling him,  _just ask him out already_. But like a coward, Harry shakes his head each time. It’s never been that easy because Harry’s always been paranoid about putting himself out like that to someone, and it was impossible to see without knowing him - only Gemma knows that side of him.

Harry lets out a small breath but continues his walking, pausing when he spots blond hair in a blue snapback, immediately producing a loud beating in his heart. Except, Niall’s not alone. He’s there with someone and not just a random person either, because there Gemma is - walking comfortably beside him and laughing loudly.

They look like a proper couple, Harry can’t help but notice, lips pursed in a tight line, and this is just ridiculous. He’s actually jealous of Gemma’s close proximity to Niall, flinching when she holds onto Niall’s arm and he smiles widely at her, like he’s really enjoying himself.

Niall shouldn’t be smiling at her, Harry foolishly reasons, following them closely. He had known they were good friends but he didn’t think it was to this extent. That they were so comfortable with touching each other and joked around so easily - such a stark contrast from Harry’s slight mute self with each of his lessons.

Harry rolls his eyes in annoyance, emotions on his face shifting quickly when Niall turns to walk in his direction.

 _Shit_ , Harry thinks, ducking but relaxes the second Niall turns to the right and goes to the medicine section. However, his relief is short lived because his hand falls on a couple of packets of gum, dropping them to the floor, creating a small ruckus that captures the attention from more than a pair of eyes.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, cursing his clumsiness, because he knows how strange he’ll look if he gets caught, but luckily Niall doesn’t see him.

Gemma does.

“Hey,” Gemma walks over to him, bright smile on her face.

“Hey,” Harry answers, voice flat and lifeless, attempting to pick up all the packets off the floor in one movement. “What are you doing here?” he asks grumpily, causing Gemma to frown at his tone.

“I was around,” Gemma says, eyeing Harry carefully.

“I see,” Harry mumbles, tension near his neck because why is Gemma even here? Why was she with Niall? Harry thinks, placing all the packets in their area with a serious expression glued on his face.

Gemma seems to read something off his face too, causing Harry to subconsciously look back to see that Niall’s still busy. He is.

“I didn’t know you were that close to Niall,” Harry blurts before he can stop himself, embarrassing himself because he sounds as bitter as he feels, which is saying a lot too.

Gemma notices as well, eyes going wide before the annoying smirk falls on her face.

“I am,” she smugly says. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbles, face serious. “He’s okay,” and that seems to be what Gemma was looking for because she’s grinning so widely now, satisfied with Harry’s response.

“You like him, don’t you?” She asks, except it’s not a question. It’s more or less her teasing him because it’s just so obvious.

“I do,” Harry mutters in a rough voice. “He’s a good friend,” he adds offhandedly, but the small red on his cheeks are giving it away. Niall’s clearly not just a friend to him.

Gemma grins like Harry has made her day a lot better, biting her lip to control the chuckles that want to escape her mouth.

“Then why don’t you tell him?”

“I’d rather not,” Harry tells her, voice edged towards annoyance. Just because she was his older sister  _didn’t_  mean she could boss him around like this.

“Why not?” Gemma’s face softens.

“Because I like the pain.” Harry jokes but Gemma’s face twitches into a frown, like she can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“You’re being stupid, Harry. Just tell him,” she says, frustrated at Harry’s stubbornness.

“Thanks,” Harry mutters through clenched teeth, “but it’s my choice to be stupid,” he says, taking a chance to glance back at Niall, relaxing slightly when he sees that Niall’s talking to the cashier, laughing.

“Why do you even want me to tell him?” Harry questions, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Gemma shrugs, adding, “I like Niall. He’d make a good brother in-law.”

“Gemma,” Harry narrows his eyes, but they widen the second he sees Niall walking over to them.

“I…” Harry begins but Gemma waves him off.

“I’ll just tell him you got sick,” she says, and although Harry’s still not happy about her finding out about his crush on Niall, he gives her a grateful smile, sprinting out the store like a madman.

*

Gemma’s word linger in Harry’s head for more than he likes.

It’d be easy to ask Niall out but Harry’s not entirely sure that Niall even likes him that way. He’s not even entirely sure  _he_  likes Niall in that way either. It might just be infatuation, because when Harry really thinks about it, he hardly knows Niall.

He only knows the basics - like what color Niall likes to wear the most, his favorite choice of drink, and he knows that Niall’s not a natural blond because he’s spent enough time observing the roots of his hair - creeping himself out in the process but he’s much more comfortable with observing Niall than talking to him.

All in all, Harry’s just being dumb. But…he’s also going broke.

Those lessons are costing him a fortune, which is stupid too because Harry doesn’t need them either. He’s already somewhat decent at the guitar; all he really wanted to learn were the basics, like reading notes because once you learn that, it’s easy to play any other song. Or so he’s heard.

“Shit,” Harry mumbles, reading his notes section again, doubts swimming in his head. He can’t even concentrate anymore or rack his head around the subject matter without thinking about Niall and his conflicting emotions that he’s not even sure about.

However, there’s one thing he’s certain of. Wednesday could not come soon enough.

*

“How’ve you been?” Niall asks that long-awaited Wednesday, smiling gently at Harry, despite the fact he must’ve witnessed Harry run away from him that day at the store.

“Good, mate,” Harry says, fidgeting with his hands. He’s been drinking caffeine to keep his energy level up and hasn’t slept properly for the past two days, but Niall doesn’t need to know that.

“Good,” Niall nods with a smile, getting out his guitar, and by the way Harry’s hand is twitching, he knows it’s going to be a tough lesson. Which of course, it is.

The whole lesson is off because Harry can’t concentrate properly. He’s twisting his hands too much, squeezing the wooden neck of the guitar too strongly that his fingers are going white, and can’t hold onto the string properly, making everything sound so distorted. It’s just the worse he’s ever been, and Niall notices too.

“Relax your fingers,” Niall tells him, hands going to Harry’s fingers to loosen them up, which only makes Harry tense up even more.

“I am,” Harry says, pushing away Niall’s fingers, cheeks smeared in red.

“Okay,” Niall sighs loudly because Harry’s being a little brat, but backs away to let him be. However, Niall’s touch has done more harm than good because Harry can’t hold a note anymore. He’s too tense from his shoulders and his palms are too sweaty to hold the guitar properly, fingers sliding from the perspiration around his hands; he’s just a lousy mess.

Niall shakes his head but pulls a serious face, locking his blue eyes with Harry’s green ones.

“Close your eyes for a bit,” Niall says, face blank, ignoring the way Harry’s eyes have widened.

“My eyes?” Harry questions, slightly panicked, but Niall just nods in response.

“I can relax without doing that,” Harry attempts to say in a stern voice but it quivers, reflecting his nerves.

“Just do it,” Niall says, rolling his eyes but with a slight smile. “I promise you’ll be alright,” and with a face like that, it’s so hard to say no, even if Harry wanted to.

“Okay,” Harry mumbles reluctantly, closing his eyes. The feeling makes him uneasy, like he’s losing control, that he has to sneak a small peak shortly.

“Stop looking,” Niall chuckles, swatting Harry’s knee playfully, guitar placed to his side.

“Why can’t I look?” Harry asks, stupidly stubborn and anxious, but obliges to Niall’s demands. He’d do anything that Niall tells him, he realizes, inhaling a breath.

“Just relax,” Niall’s voice is different. Deeper. Closer.

“I’m trying,” Harry admits, and hey. He can feel Niall’s warm breath on him, hitting his face lightly.

“Stop being so tense around me,” Niall says softly, lips brushing against Harry’s, which should send Harry into a state of panic because Niall’s too close, but it doesn’t. If anything, he wants to erase that gap even more, now that he’s felt the slight contact of Niall’s soft skin against his lips.

“It’s hard when you’re you,” Harry breathes out in a soft voice, trust overriding his caution.

“Good,” Niall says, and even if Harry’s eyes are closed, he knows that Niall’s smiling. He can hear the cheerfulness in Niall’s voice so clearly, taking a chance to lean forward to erase the space between them and connect their lips.

Kissing is nice, Harry thinks, lips tugging Niall’s gently.

It’s really nice, actually. Niall’s lips are soft but still rough enough to let Harry know that it’s a guy he’s kissing. His experiences have ranged from girls to guys, but it’s never been like this. This right here, it leaves him breathless - a stupid cliché he’d never thought he’d use, but Niall’s has that effect on Harry’s being.

He can make Harry lose himself, tongue massaging every part of Niall’s as he timidly asks permission to continue exploring Niall’s mouth. And of course, it’s given.

Their lips brush frantically in the same motion and Harry swears that this feeling will always linger with him. That perhaps with Niall at his side, it’ll never go away.

He’s too lost in the kiss that he’s forgotten about their lesson until Niall disconnects their lips, smug smile glued on his red-stricken cheeks.

“Now you can stop pretending you’re rubbish at this,” Niall says in a teasing tone, fond and soft.

“I wasn’t…” Harry begins but pauses because he’s dumbstruck. He takes a small moment before he catches the little wink from Niall, grinning gently now. Niall was a cheeky lad.

The smirk on Niall’s lips stays put but Harry wipes it off with the only way he can, connecting their lips once again.

*

Harry’s lips are numb and red but he’s grinning widely.

“Not bad,” Niall says, strumming a couple of chords, secret smile on his face. After all, they weren’t just going to leave without that lesson now, were they?

Harry grins in satisfaction but it falls the second he hears a clicking sound, turning to see Gemma pointing her phone in their direction.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, cheeks pink because she’s embarrassed at being caught.

Harry would be tempted to tease her about it if his face wasn’t hurting because he’s been smiling too much. Instead, he chuckles, “let’s see it,” surprising her, but she obliges.

“You can’t see your face but it’s nice,” she says, adding, “do you want me to delete it?”

Harry takes a short glance at Niall who shrugs, “it’s fine with me.”

Gemma catches that look exchanged between the two and grins, fingers already working their magic to post the picture on Instagram with one simple caption.

 **namelessgem** :Bein cute doin guitar lessons

And yeah. Harry may or may have not been the first to have liked it.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Come say hello right [here](http://arie-172.tumblr.com/).


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